


play in the petals

by tsuruko



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Flowers, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2431055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuruko/pseuds/tsuruko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This time, he buys red roses without looking up a meaning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	play in the petals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astroturfwars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astroturfwars/gifts).



> shows up at the KuroDai Hell block party with this fic... This is mostly my fault I brought up Kuroo bringing Daichi flowers and Femi and I made it worse collectively. I'm so asdfghjk!!!!!! about these two it's really gross. I've never written them and I wanted to try my hand so here it is!

The first time Kuroo does it, it's on impulse; he sees the flower stand on his way home and his train of thought makes an unexpected stop, turning instead onto the track of, _Huh, maybe…?_ He asks advice on what to get to surprise a special someone, and 'surprise' is at least partially what he accomplishes. The look on Daichi's face when he sees Kuroo kicking off his shoes unsteadily while trying to keep a hold on a bouquet of pink roses and stephanotis changes quickly from disbelief to confusion, then straight on to something entirely, purposefully, blank.   
  
Kuroo is sure he's succeeded in flustering his boyfriend (Daichi's cheeks pink in the wake of the shower he has just taken) at the very least until the first thing Daichi says in response is, "What's happening…" with his hand curiously outstretched to take the flowers from Kuroo. He purses his lips and pads in sock feet to the kitchen to see if they still have the vase his aunt had given them, and Kuroo pokes his head into the room to tell him they're using it for spare change in their bedroom at the exact moment that Daichi presses the flowers to his face and inhales softly, the corner of his lips inching up into a smile. He wraps his arms around Daichi's waist from behind and kisses his neck, asks him about his day, and they flowers are forgotten on the counter while they go grab a quick dinner.   
  
In the morning—Daichi had already gone for his first class, the apartment quiet, everything muted yellow in the early light—Kuroo tiredly enters the kitchen while scrubbing at his eyes. The second thing he sees after the coffee pot is the flowers bathing comfortably in one of their travel coffee mugs beside it.

* * *

When it happens again, it's premeditated, a single thought on a long list of things that might make his congratulating Daichi on completing his midterms a little bit more extravagant than a dinner overlooking the park near their apartment. He catches himself researching the meanings of that flowers could hold instead of paying attention in his last class of the afternoon, catches that he's bookmarking certain pages that explain them better than others, then catches the train to a well-known flower shop a little off of his path, uptown.   
  
He's given a knowing look from the florist when he requests a bouquet of yellow poppies, jonquil, and magenta stock, each of which, he's come to discover, hold meanings along the lines of success, pride, and affection, respectively. There was never a time in Kuroo's life that he thought he would be buying flowers on an almost weekly basis, let alone that he could walk into a flower shop and not need to ask questions. It's odd, but he feels this sort of almost domestic swell of mushy happiness in his chest when the florist hands him the flowers—he asks for a vase this time, tall glass with a little swirled design on it—and it's even odder, still, that he looks up ways to keep the flowers alive longer on the train back home.   
  
Daichi greets him at the door again, this time in his underwear and dress shirt, buttoning it up while offering Kuroo a raised eyebrow. There's a smile on Kuroo's face that melts onto Daichi's, as well, when he kisses him hello, how was your day, nice thighs, captain, and he sets the flowers in the windowsill in their living room. The first bouquet is a touch wilted, looking a little sad around the edges, but Kuroo has no plans of getting rid of it unless Daichi asks him to.   
  
"Flowers again?" Daichi questions, though not unhappily, from behind Kuroo while he changes clothes.   
  
He stands in their bedroom doorway, head turned and his eyes resting on the buds of deep pink stock sticking haphazardly between the yellow poppies and creamy white of the jonquils (the colors blend strangely well together, Daichi notes. Kuroo doesn't tell him that he caught the look of fondness on Daichi's features).   
  
Kuroo exhales in a quiet laugh. "What, you don't like them?"  
  
There's quiet for a moment, then Daichi's smiling, shrugging a shoulder. "They're nice, actually. At least you got a vase this time." He pokes Kuroo's in the side, only to be pulled in for a slow kiss.   
  
"I think the travel mug fits well," Kuroo's lips are at Daichi's ear, voice hushed, heavy, and, simultaneously, they both cannot believe that Kuroo is presently whispering to Daichi about flowers. "Those first ones mean happiness in marriage, by the way."   
  
The heat on Daichi's cheeks, his neck, warms Kuroo after that.

* * *

It's a few months before Kuroo does this again, and this time, they're graduating, the long-time-coming good news of finals passed with flying colors and degrees to hang on their walls lifting weights of tens of thousands off of their shoulders. This time, he buys red roses without looking up a meaning; this one, he knows all too well and knows Daichi will, too. The florist knows, the people on the train car know.   
  
The house is strangely empty when he comes home, but there's a note on the hook that Kuroo hangs his coat on telling him that Daichi ran out to get things to make a special dinner, that he'll be home shortly, he loves him, so, so much. Kuroo takes the note and roses with him to sit on the couch, not knowing just how tired he is until his feet are up and he's laying back on the cushions. He's not surprised that he falls asleep, that the roses rest daintily on his chest, and that Daichi wakes him up with a kiss when he returns, the house smelling of food, the roses pressed close to his face, and his boyfriend smelling of rain and cool, sweet cologne when Kuroo's senses are with him again.   
  
"Are these for me?" Daichi asks, kneeling beside the couch, eye-level. His fingers brush over the petals with the same delicate motions he uses when he touches Kuroo's cheeks, his lips.  
  
"They are," Kuroo's voice is thick with sleep, his breath caught in his throat at the light in Daichi's eyes. "You should take them before I cuddle them for another…" he looks at his bare wrist for the time, "how long was I even asleep?"  
  
Daichi laughs, takes the roses without an answer. Kuroo follows him into the kitchen to watch him place them into the travel mug he had taken the other, long expired, bouquet out of a week or so previous. It hadn't lived a long life, but neither of them had the heart to toss it. Their arms twine around each other and they stay like that for so long that Kuroo's concerned that dinner might burn but it's fine, really, because they're swaying slightly to no music and it's storming gently outside, rain pattering against the window, and this is perfect, Kuroo thinks, he couldn't, wouldn't, ask for anything else.

* * *

Hours pass and they take a shower together, Daichi ducking out of the bathroom in only his underwear and Kuroo doesn't question it, doesn't think he should. There's a single rose lying across the top of the clean clothes Kuroo had left out for himself, little wet spots on his shirt from the makeshift bath he knows it had been in minutes before. 

Daichi enters the room with two glasses of wine and promptly, nearly, in a fit of laughter, drops them when he sees Kuroo, his towel kicked toward the door, standing naked in what Daichi assumes he thinks is a seductive pose, the rose held carefully between his teeth.   
  
"You're such a loser," Daichi tells him, tone entirely fond, before he kisses Kuroo atop the rose.  


End file.
